The Voice of Gor

Picture: Kasra – Fayeen River

IT AIN’T EASY BEING CHEESY

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

I usually do not use second hand information without checking it out myself first. But, after talking with an old friend, who recently made a visit to a city I am no longer welcome in, I decided to consider his report on recent construction activity there. I am always excited by the erection of a new structure. I, in turn, like to share that excitement with free and slave alike in the hopes that they too will visit the particular city where these buildings are being done and “check them out”.

My friend is a talented artist and brought back sketches of this city as it now stands. It seems the dust has cleared, at least in the air. I must say I was impressed by the changes made to the city he visited. As I looked at these sketches, I was puzzled as the city seemed much smaller than the city I had visited some time before. I hoped that vicious rumors that the city in question was experiencing an exodus at its gates was not true. The thought, that ANY city was being neglected or in need of some repair on the perimeter walls, made me nervous, fearful, and sad, very very sad. The thought that maybe I was being fed lies regarding this and any other city that was allegedly proceeding “to dust”, also depressed me. Thankfully I seldom hear of disastrous remarks that are false in anyway. I grant kudos to all who impart the truth for quashing nasty rumors and speaking out in the name of accuracy. And I pray for a city that may be experiencing the upheaval that a city is prone to, stay in business, so to speak, and stick around for the total enjoyment of all.

As I listened to this friend about his visit to the rebuilt city and mulled over the drawings he gave me, I was struck by how this grand reorganization and use of sturdy materials made the city seem clean, practical, organized, and strangely beautiful. Although it seemed smaller, the buildings erected inside the walls suited the area nicely.

My friend’s only confusion came at the disembarkation point on the docks. There, against some rocks, were waves crashing atop the stones. He was not aware that this city was anywhere near roaring white water. But, none the less, he thought the sounds thundering from the fresh water waves were reassuring. The wharf area was nicely laid in limestone giving a polished touch to an area usually associated with shabby buildings. I was, thought, disheartened by the approach to this city. I could not remember from the last time I was there, if the entrance from the docks proceeded straight from the wharf as you look up to the city on the hill, but I could be wrong. The drawings now show a pathway that zig zags to the main gates. To be sure the path created is a lovely one set in limestone blocks that conduct you to the main entrance.

I am convinced that the main portal into a walled city should be impressive, clean, direct, and decorated with the best the city planners can incorporate into their steps and ramps. It also should be armed “24/7” with guards or at least a video surveillance camera. Disregard the remark about a camera, it would take too long to explain it. I cannot think of any city that I have visited that has put a massive and easily found entrance to the portals of their turf. I wondered why such easily placed ingress was not designed. Then I came up with the realization that if raiders were about, a convoluted entryway would slow them down and create time for a defensive response to an intrusion. It still would be nice to have a more imposing façade of stairs facing the docks or entry points to a city. What comes to mind is the famous steps to the capitol building in Washington, D.C. on the planet earth. For those not in the know, there is a butt load of stairs on either side of that building to ascend. Impressive but now closed to the public because of raiders that could enter the structure and damage it.

It seems that most cities have this zig zag approach. The reason for this type of construction could also be the lack of land to build a direct approach to the metropolis. Either way, I prefer cities that use limestone or granite in the path to the city. Therefore, this city I am talking about should be applauded for it’s good taste. The entryway sees sturdy from the drawings although not quite as rococo as my taste would have it. I had to remind myself that this city was not designed by the Waniyanpi but by a member of the Gorean Builders Caste. The city interior was nicely arranged on a grid.

It is difficult to give directions when a city is laid out in a mish mash of buildings. There are times when I have asked directions to a place and have been told, “Just wander on down to the market and when you see the stall with household goods, turn left.” These are very unhelpful because many a time the citizen with the household goods stall has moved to a kiosk down the road. It helps when things are laid out on a logical progression of squares and you can say, “the dressmakers is at the corner of 3rd and Main.” It was comforting to see that this city was laid out on this type of grid.

As I carefully examined the renderings my friend made and asked questions it seemed that the city was more compact but nicely maintained inside and out. He mentioned the continuity of design and use of material. He showed me a very nice coliseum on a promontory overlooking the river. It seemed a spectacular place for an arena. He mentioned the requisite housing area outside the walls of the city and also mentioned a rather chi chi area on a cliff above the city and housing area. There were no buildings to speak of, only a group of tents. Now, tent materials can vary from exquisite to cheesy, these particular tents were all constructed of quality black fabric, pitched in an imposing way. I am a slut for organization and my friend assured me that the tents matched and were smartly arranged. I think, if I were an assassin, I would want to live in portable housing, on a cliff overlooking any approach by an enemy, but be able to do it in style.

The only misgiving I have is not being able to revisit this city once more. I guess I shall have to content myself with second hand information regarding any more structural changes within its walls.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 172

Picture: Tancred’s Landing – writing the NEW VOICE OF GOR

SECRETS AND HONOR ~ Loose Lips Sink Tarn Ships

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

SECRETS AND HONOR ~ Loose Lips Sink Tarn Ships

I have said previously that Gor runs on gossip. But, you must call that what it really is…”word of mouth”. Gor does not have a vast communication network. If it did, we would see scrolls passed from one citizen to another with such rapidity that everyone would know in a matter of ehn’s what “be the happ’s” all over Gor. On these scrolls would be splashed headlines like, “FREE WOMAN SLAVER SUBMITS!”, or “HIGHEST PAID FOR SLUT AT AUCTION”, and “UBARITE LEARNS OF COVER UP”. It is a tempting thought, to be informed.

I must say, however, there is something to be said for stopping information of a poisonous nature. Stopping the communication, before it starts, would prevent any detrimental news from antagonizing the public.

Think about this, a slave sees or hears something and passes this information on to another in casual conversation. This information titillates the ear of the other slave and consequently this titillated slave then tells everyone she meets of this fact; since she thinks it is a juicy tidbit. Even though the fact that Master Butticus has been frequenting the Zar tables may sound inconsequential to one person, to the “Companion” of Master Butticus, it is a devastating insight as to why their fortunes are fast disappearing. She will find out that her companion has been wagering on games in which his losses out weigh his gains.

I have been privy to many of these well meaning communiqués. My problem has been whether to speak or write of these things. Mostly, after revealing these “sound bites”, I have come to find it is better to keep my “trap” shut.

To this end I employ the “code of silence” which dictates the cover-up of family business and the non-aggravation of authorities. It also begs non-interference in the affairs of others. This is not a code I come by easily. I believe it takes years of practice or being whipped for opening your mouth inappropriately.

On an odd note, I did witness a free woman being asked to leave a tavern by a warrior. It seemed a comedy of errors. Now I have to decide whether telling you that will cause Gor War 3, or whether my mouth is just flapping in the breeze.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 171

Picture: The Northern Forest – bargaining with female outlaws

DI DOVE SEI? ~ Where are you from?

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

Back on the planet I came from, the Italian side of my family asked visitors to their home, “Where are you from.” The response would be, “Sono di…” which was, I am from (insert name of town). Those two phrases for me seem aptly Gorean. At the gates of the city one is always asked to declare one’s Home Stone. Then again in the commons, if a free person sees an unfamiliar face, the unfamiliar face is asked where on the planet they hail from. This remark is asked more seriously at the gate but once you declare yourself and you are inside the gates, then being asked where you are from is seen as light banter.

The question of “where are you from”, is never asked of slaves. I mean, you would ask a pet sleen where it is from. Instead you would ascertain its owner. As all slaves are animals, and they, for the most part can speak, the question asked of a slave is “Who is your owner?” Even slaves ask other slaves, “Who owns you?” If the slave being asked, “who is your owner”, adds some inane factoid like, they came from Tafa, no one will give a rosy red urts bottom. The owner is the most important thing. Besides slave’s too have their pecking order. The more important the owner, the more important the slave, or so those princesses claim.

Many Goreans carry around little scroll pouches on their belts or secured under robes of concealment. These scrolls contain their identification, all the particulars the magistrate of another city might need to double check when checking the veracity of certain people. Also, it helps a member of the High Counsel to get a hold of these individuals should they cause a small insurrection or an all out war.

I have been privy to some of these identification scrolls. I have read them at the gate when my Master put ID scrolls down to talk to the stranger as he guarded the portals of Port Olni. I had a hard time not laughing as I read some lengthy autobiographies on those scrolls. Some of them I laughed at because they seem to match the visitor’s demeanor who was standing before us. Some were funny because they were a fantasy concoction of the holder’s own life. For example; a puny free man, dressed in clothes that have seen better days, gave my Master his scroll that read like a page out of an earth manual, Debrett’s Peerage. According to him, he was first in line of succession in a very old royal dynasty on Gor. He went on for paragraph after paragraph about how high he was in that royal family. I was starting to think of him in earth terms again and I wondered how “high” he was when he wrote it.

Now bespoke clothing is quality clothing. When a person wears clothing that is frankly from another fashion period and that ensemble looks smart, that person is truly wearing a bespoke item. The puny man before us at the gate looked like a wastrel and in fact he appeared to be a vagabond. This is only one example I could regale you with regarding the question, “Where are you from”.

I am going to refrain from doing so as I could receive angry threats from those who might see themselves in what I have written. I think all that could be avoided if free persons would avail themselves of my side business, Teal’s ID Scribe Service. I compose smart and true identification scrolls. I correct your Gorean and punctuation. Then I move on to content. I would want to team up with a painter of renown, for instance, one Mistress JJLowe. Her likenesses could be included on the scroll to accompany my words. Together we could produce some of the snappiest identification scrolls upon which would flow understandable Gorean. The owners of these ID’s would be presented in a more favorable light to the viewing public.

To get back to the puny free man at the gate, he was obviously an opportunist. I saw stamped in the lower left corner an advertisement for Sammy’s Slave Auctions with an address and times of operation. I am sure that Sammy paid the puny fellow for taking up space on his ID. But I have seen advertisements on ID scrolls that are there for the sheer pleasure of giving the magistrate something else to look at than just the ho hum life of the stranger.

I will have to respectfully decline composing ID scrolls for the Mamba group. As darling as their language is, I do not read, write, nor understand it. This past week I was treated to the Mamba language by a group of free people in the commons. I listened for repetition of a word and I heard one that I thought I could make a spring board for understanding this foreign tongue. I came to find out later this word meant Bosk Shit.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 170

Picture: The HoY company trading in Port Bazi

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

This week, I am going to finish answering the free woman who asked this question last week. I wanted to give the lady a complete guide to getting and keeping a man in the dating stage of the courtship. I repeat here her question to me:

DEAR TEAL:
I am a free woman who is desperate to find a companion. I see free men everywhere in my city, they are either with companions or walking with a retinue of slaves behind them. In other words, they are most unapproachable. I have been courted by some five men in the past but after a few weeks, they disappear from my life and if I see them in the commons or the market place, they turn the other way or cross to the other side of the street to avoid me. Will I ever find one? Where are all the men? Please advise.

DEAR FLYING SOLO:
In the last Voice of Gor, I addressed but a few of the forewarnings to watch for when you submit to a free man’s courting. I have now a few more things to impart on your dress and deportment that you might want to incorporate into your body of knowledge.

I will start this week by saying NEVER keep a man waiting who calls on you at your place of residence. If he invites you to the commons or the tea room for snacks, show up at the appointed hour. Try to arrive an ehn or two after he does. The point being that the shorter time he awaits you, the more he will understand that you do not take his attentions lightly.

When I have served the free in the commons, I witnessed free men sitting by themselves, ordering some libation. They sat for the longest time, alone. I always wondered why they did so. They would order a couple of tankards or bowls of alcohol, stand up, stretch, and go about their business. Most of them wandered off either sighing or shaking their heads. About thirty or forty ehns after they left, a free woman would invariably step into the commons, look around while walking through, and exit the commons without sitting down. Putting two and two together, I can safely say, those free women were late to a date. I doubt whether those free women were asked out again or if they were, the free man’s faculties were set on high gear. He would, from there on out, watch for any more red flags that could appear on the horizon. These warning banners can accumulate until the free man finally sees the proverbial “handwriting on the wall” and rejects the free woman totally.

Now, here is another piece of territory I must cover. Part of not keeping the free man waiting is to arrive in front of him fully dressed. I am not suggesting that you would show up half naked to your date. Free woman are required to conceal themselves in robes named for such use. But, to arrive hooking all your veils in place, adjusting your stockings or pulling on your gloves will have you appear to not be organized. This can kill your allure faster than the peasant bow can fell a verr. Dress and adjust yourself in the privacy of your boudoir. And, for the sake of sanitation, comb your locks in private.

Just two weeks ago, a free woman took out a comb in the commons and started pulling at her hair with it. There was much hair on the comb when she finished. She removed the hair from the comb and threw it under the table where she was sitting. I was not the only witness to this disgusting practice. Two other slaves looked at me in horror with their mouths open. At least we saw it and I was able to sweep up the offending garbage from the eating area once she left. I feared to do it while she sat at the table since I speculated that I might be beaten for my insolence.

Oh, and while I am at it, NEVER borrow his rep cloth from his place setting on the table to wipe your cosmetics from your face. You should request a slave bring you a damp rep cloth to discreetly wipe the bits from your mouth or to remove your lip wax.

Lets talk next about a certain physical attribute of women. Female slaves and free women all have breasts. Granted some of us have more bounteous gifts than others. Those free women, whose abundance is evident under the robes of concealment, should make sure to wear uplifting corsets. You never want your courting man to chase you through a field of Sa-Tarna on a late day in En-Var which would cause your ample assets to bounce up and smack you in the face. Restraint, on your part, could lead to a companionship with one of the opposite sex. Which is why you asked your question in the first place.

Regarding the wearing of a supporting corset, I wish that some female slaves had access to such engineering feats in the form of cloth. I saw a female slave not many moons back who was jumping up and down on a table in the commons. A Master had commanded her to do so for his own entertainment. It was evident that the Master was an aficionado of slaves doing jumping jarl’s. The enormous heft and girth of her breasts caused them to fly up in her face. They hit her with such velocity that it knocked her out cold. It was hard for me to fetch a pan of water to throw on her face to rouse her because I was shaking from laughter.

Speaking of other cautions, you should not be familiar with your escort by caressing him in public. You would be exhibiting slave behavior and it might get you collared on the spot. Leave the caressing and cooing over the Master the domain of the slaves. You, on the other hand, are a lady. This fact is supported every time you are called “lady” by other free persons.

One would also hope that you refrain from talking about the latest robes of concealment from the dressmaker or boots at the cobblers. Talk about things the man would be interested in. You could describe a shipment that arrived recently on the docks. It would be good to note down facts to parade before him. You could make a mental picture of the types of goods being rolled out onto the wharves. Describe in detail, appropriate to a male’s curiosity, the colors and scents you perceived while there. Give him a count of the barrels that were taken off and relate any funny incidents like a slave colliding with a barrel of wine and being thrown off into the river. It might be more exciting if a water sleen were to attack the hapless slave. This might set off response in your date. You want to keep him talking. So your conversation should be scintillating and informative at the same time. It could dazzle the free man you are seeking.

While we are on the art of conversation, I want to give you another warning. NEVER talk to another free man in front of the free man who is courting you. Your courting free man should not be regaled with the exploits of your other “friend” when you talk to this other man in front of him. Acknowledge a “friend” who shows up by nodding and giving a courteous greeting. Don’t greet the person as if you would slap him on the back in a “hail fellow well met” gesture. Free women should behave like ladies, demure, accepting, feminine, correct, soft, and empathetic.

Some time back I exited my Master’s house in the direction of the market. As I walked past many residences in Olni Var, a free woman, who I always perceived as a bit of a “Tom boy”, (translating into the Gorean, a Tom-boy, on earth is a woman who adapts the mannerisms of a man) was talking out the side of her mouth like she was a dock worker. The other person, a free male that I recognized, was hit by the free woman’s language, which was saltier than Thassa. I even saw her slap him on the back a few times. The male was not her brother so I speculated that he had been her “friend” at one point and forsook her for someone else. The appalled look on his face told me he dropped courting this free woman, in part, because of her same behavior in the past.

Lastly, a free man deserves and desires your entire attention. If you look through this little compendium of advice I think you might find which areas need the most attention in your dating arsenal. I hope that you write me back and tell me of any success you might have by following these folios.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 169

Pictures: Where the Olni river (Saleria) flows into the Vosk – near Tancred’s Landing, upper Vosk area

New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 166 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 165 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 164 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 163 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 161 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 161 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 160 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 159 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 158 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 157 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 156 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 155 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 154 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 153 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 152 (shorter online version)

Picture: Gorean Panther En

GRUEL IS CRUEL ~ A New Recipe is born

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

My Master was away for a day and after I finished my chores in the house I looked around for something to eat. I was so busy fixing snacks for my Master to take on his short trip that I neglected to eat my first meal of the day. I had an unpleasant feeling of shakiness and a small headache from the lack of food. As I looked around the house I found a half eaten piece of bread that had seen better days. I did not fancy eating moldy Sa-Tarna bread and I chucked it out in the street for the birds to peck at. I was getting mighty hungry. There was no coin in the house either to purchase something at the market stalls. I thought about asking the baker to put some fresh bread on my Master’s account but he has been put out with me since I poked my finger inside a cream cake on his shelf. I just wanted to taste it but, I was caught. He told me not to come back any time soon.

I thought maybe I would go to the vegetable merchant and ask him for a few suls and put the cost on my Master’s account but, the last time I went there to buy vegetables, the merchant and I had a heated argument and to spite him, I rubbed a sul in my butt crack, put it back in his display, and thumbed my nose at him. He chased me but, he is an enormous man and I out distanced him and got away. He should eat more of the vegetables he sells. Maybe he could then win a foot race with me.

I was going to have to go to where the food was plentiful, albeit, distasteful. Yes my friends, I went to the city kennel. It was there that I met the slaver of Port Olni, Master Tuor, a Tuchuck. Our slaver is a very kind man and the girls that come in for processing and training are well treated.

As all of Gor knows, the food that is commonly given slaves is a gruel consisting of Sa-Tarna meal mixed with water. This is a cheap but life sustaining repast. Before one ingests this substance, you find yourself asking, do I live to eat or do I eat to live? Slave gruel is definitely something that you eat in order to live. And so you eat it to ward off death.

And so I begged the Master Tuor to go to the kennel kitchen and get some Sa-Tarna meal. He was most accommodating and said I could have half a sack if I wanted it. I took a sack that was open and about 1/3 full. I thanked him profusely and went home. At the house I put the sack on the counter and peered in at the substance. It was yellow and coarse similar to the cornmeal I had known on Earth. First I tried mixing a half of a cup with water and heating it up in a pan. The smell that came from it was not appetizing and even with my great hunger, I threw it out into the street for the birds to peck at.

I looked around the kitchen and remembered a pitcher of bosk milk that had soured but had not been thrown out yet. So I took two cups of the soured milk, three cups of Sa-Tarna meal, and some baking soda and salt and mixed them in a bowl. It started to look more like a cake batter. I tasted the mixture and realized it was missing something. The missing ingredient could be obtained for free. I ran out the door and through the Olni Var gate to the Olni Var park. It is there that our Ubar keeps his bee hives. A low table is set up with pots of honey and a barrel full of honey. The Ubar encourages the residents to partake freely of his honey and so I took a pot of it home.

I mixed half a pot of honey into the batter and tasted it. By this time my hunger was so great that I was sampling the honey to keep from having the low sugar shakes. I took some butter from the counter and slathered the inside of the baking pan.

I poured the batter into the pan, covered it, and shoved it in the hearth, covering it with coals. I waited, sucking the honey off my fingers for about 20 ehn. I uncovered the pan and inside was a pretty good replica of the earth starch, corn bread. I cut a huge piece out of it and started gobbling it with honey.

I wound up eating the whole pan and suffered from the results of my gluttony afterward. I slept the rest of the day like an ost who just swallowed a large urt.

I was thinking of writing on a scroll my recipe for this “gruel on steroids” and passing it on to the cook at the House of Spiritweaver city kennel. I think it would even be better with a couple of vuolo eggs in the batter.

I heard a knock on the door much later and the next door neighbor wanted to know if I was throwing food out into the streets to attract urts. She made me clean it up.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 166

Picture: Working in the fields – City of Naath

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

DEAR TEAL:
I am a free woman who is desperate to find a companion. I see free men everywhere in my city, they are either with companions or walking with a retinue of slaves behind them. In other words, they are most unapproachable. I have been courted by some five men in the past but after a few weeks, they disappear from my life and if I see them in the commons or the market place, they turn the other way or cross to the other side of the street to avoid me. Will I ever find one? Where are all the men? Please advise.

DEAR FLYING SOLO:
By the three moons, there must be an epidemic on Gor. Yours is the third scroll I have received this week written about the same dilemma. You give me little to go on. I would need more information to give you the sound advice I am used to dispensing in The Voice of Gor. (coughs) For instance, how mature are you, when was your last bath, do you use mouth wash, are your clothes freshly laundered, do you pick your teeth in public. These may all be clues as to why men flee from your side. Since I have a dearth of answers to the aforementioned I will now impart a primer on dating for free women. Maybe after taking these admonitions to heart you will find the free companion of your dreams.

If your hygiene is not lacking and your robes of concealment cover your natural assets demurely, then I would look to behaviors that could be the “kiss of death” to a budding relationship.

Here are some red flags that a prospective mate will not find appealing in a date. First off, do not make sentimental appeals to his emotions. Don’t expect him to say things he is not comfortable revealing. He may not want to tell you of the last man he ran through with his blade or the paga slut he used last night. You might be moved to tears. And generally speaking, men prefer not to see a woman in tears, especially in public. And, you will be in public during your courtship. Think of HIS discomfort when you starting weeping openly in the commons.

Next on the list, and these are not in order of importance as they are ALL important, when in the presence of a free man, alighting on a cushion or chair, for the sake of the Priest-Kings, do it with a little grace. Do not assume awkward positions. A lady in robes of concealment should not sit with her knees up, spread apart, letting her gown settle in between her legs. You are not at the physicians office getting a gynecological examination. Now this rule is thrown out the window when in the privacy of your own quarters away from judgmental eyes. In that instance you may behave in the sluttiest of attitudes.

In the same vein as your body deportment, the movement of your mouth should be considered. If your intended and you share a meal, chew your food and keep your lips closed while doing so. Do not bolt it down like a tarn tearing apart a tabuk. This should not be too hard, as all women, at some point in their lives, have to learn to use their mouth and lips in pleasing ways. Also, a woman must cultivate a clear speaking voice. They must learn to laugh charmingly. They must learn to move their lips to express desire for the man. They must also learn to hold their tongues when tempted to tell the man that he smells like a rotted old corpse of a dead sleen if in fact she is trying to court his favor.

To please a man, think of watching your mother making a cake. She would be using all sorts of delightful ingredients. You would be watching her deft movements and imagine the delights of the soon to be present, cake. In that way you have learned cake making. And so it is that you could learn to please a free man, from observing those who are already doing so. Slaves learn this early on so it would behoove a free woman to learn from the observations of how good slaves treat their Masters, which is the least painful method of learning. Or, you could take years learning by trial and error, making corrections to your “How to Please a Free Man” recipe. These minor corrections to the recipe, which take place every time you have tasted a too bitter or a too sweet or a too salty concoction, can lead to the constant heart break of losing some very expensive cake ingredients because you have not treated them right. It can be compared to coming to the new love interest with a pantry of separate experiences that you could not meld into one pleasing mix. This is maybe the main reason why you have not succeeded in keeping a male in your life. It could also explain why you could be a terrible baker. But, that of course is pure supposition on my part.

Another salient point is this, be interested in what the male is saying. I am not telling you to appear interested, I am saying “BE INTERESTED”. You may say, “But, he is a boring person. How can I find what he says of interest?” I am here to say, if you find little of interest in what he says, you are with the wrong man. You had best get out of that relationship sooner than later. Find a man you are interested in. Looks fade but the intellect, if not marred by accident and disease, lasts to the end of life. One should pick brains over looks any day of the week. Although a cute smile couldn’t hurt.

The answer to your question of where are all the men and how can you get and keep one is turning into a novella of sorts. The answers to your question are long and intricate. I must say that writing about them is going to take a few more publications of this news scroll, The Voice of Gor. I would like to finish your answer this week but my Master is giving me the evil eye because I have occupied his desk in the study for too long. He permits me to write this column as long as I am not using his desk while he is home. He is motioning for me to assume the position of a pleasure slave. Uh oh, he is tapping his foot. Never fear, true to my purpose of supplying questionable advice, I will finish your answer on next week’s scroll.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 167

Picture: The new Tharna

UNEASY LIES THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN – Slavery Revisited

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

My Master, being the Gorean male that he is, studies the scrolls of Gor’s historian, Master John Norman. I am commanded by him to study those same scrolls. My Master actually, should have been born into the Magistrates caste since he has an exacting air about him. He is, though, a brave warrior who has sent many enemies to their deaths. Woe to this slave when she does not please her Master. He will come down on my “little pipe dream” that I am lost in and wake me the hell up.

So I study the scrolls. And as I do, I am flooded with some misgivings about my “career” as a slave. The Historian lays it on the line for me. I am an animal. I am a creature without rights whose total objective in life is to work and serve the free pleasingly. This is a sobering fact for me as it most likely has been for other slaves.

Animals are bought and sold everyday. It seems that not one of these animals, who are bought and sold, have stood up and said that they refused to be sold.

Goreans are fond of naming their livestock. And so when they acquire the slave of another, who may come with the name of, let us say, “Rina”, the next owner changes the name of the animal to suit his ear. He may call the beast, “Bina” or “Gertrude”, it matters not and the slut must speak her new name when asked for it.

Slaves are given away as gifts on many occasions. When a slave is put on the auction block, she finds out very quickly that she is a performing animal. She is prodded into positions that only my physician on Earth would be privy to. Yet, there can be no embarrassment. The slave must exhibit well to fetch a high price. Goreans, who sell other types of livestock, make sure to brush the burrs out of the hair of their beasts to make them more appealing to a prospective buyer. But alas, some slaves are delivered to the auction block “en deshabille” and their prices can plummet.

But, back to the fact that slaves can be given away as gifts. Many people feel most generous around Se’Var or the winter solstice. I am not sure why that is but, I see a lot of gift giving during this period of the calendar than at any other time. At the solstice, when I am serving in the commons, I will notice the disappearance of slaves that I have been accustomed to serving alongside. It could be that they were given as gifts to their Master or Mistresses friend. I also witness. In that same commons, slaves who suddenly appear with another name. As disconcerting as that is, that same slave will scowl at you when you try to call her the old name. I would really hate to be given away as a gift to someone. And, it is a possibility. A factoid that my Master makes sure I am cognizant of.

I look back on this scroll, and though I have only written a small sample about the concept of slavery. What I already know about slavery gave me cause to pause in the commons the other day. There was a very pleasant, if somewhat preoccupied, Master sitting at a table. He was accompanied by two kajira. The three of them sat in silence. I wondered if the Master required me since there was no other slave in the commons at the time.

I approached the Master to ask if he needed service. His kajira both sneered at me. The Master thanked me and indicated that the sluts at his feet would see to his needs.

And so I arose and went back to sweeping. As I passed them, one of his slaves hissed at me. What she said made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I then looked at the pair of them with different eyes. Instead of two silk clad kajira, there appeared, in my mind’s eye, two “wanna be” free women dressed in royal purple. On their craniums they wore crowns imbedded with semiprecious stones. I had to shake my head so that my vision returned to what was reality. I went back to my sweeping.

I have this really nice broom and I like to use it. Sometimes, when no one is around, I practice wielding it as a weapon. Thank goodness, slaves are allowed to beat back the enemy. Although, all we can use are rolling pins, brooms and pans. No range weapons. The Ubara calls my janitorial equipment, the “broom of doom”. That has a nice ring to it.

I have been researching the Historian’s scrolls for any mention of slaves wearing silks before dusk. So far I have not found any prohibition on the matter. But, it should be a law. I’m just sayin’.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 165

Picture: The new Tharna

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious advice to Goreans

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

DEAR TEAL:
I am a free woman.  I recently travelled to another city to visit a friend.  My friend is also a free woman.  She has a male slave.  Her slave is quite attractive.  I found myself wanting to get in the furs with this slave and so I asked my friend if I could use him.  She looked at me in shock and said, “Certainly NOT, and besides in this city the Couching Laws are in effect.”  I just nodded and changed the subject.  Truth is, I do not know what the “Couching Laws” are.  I am too embarrassed to ask anyone here in my city.  Could you give me the information on these “Laws”?
 
DEAR FAILURE TO “HIT” THE LAW BOOKS:
Oh I am right there with you on that one.  It is awkward to not be aware of the laws of a city.  And, I have heard it said that ignorance of the law is no excuse for breaking it.  I have never advised a free woman or slave on this subject and so I myself, “hit the books” in the great library of Port Olni to do some research on your question.
 
At first I thought it was a group of laws,  you know like two or more people sitting on a couch?  I started to think in the direction of sofa’s, settee’s, living room suite’s, big comfy chairs.  Then my musings took me to psychiatric couches where some of us wind up when we have enough money to pay Master Freud or Master Jung to help us come to grips with the planet. 
 
After a couple of afternoons of sneezing from the dust, hauling scrolls off the shelves of the library, I found your answer.  In the simplest of explanations here is the Couching Law that some cities adhere to. 
 
A free woman, if she owns a slave, may take him or her to the furs.  After all, that slave is the property of the free woman and she should be accorded the total use, display, and punishment (if needed) of that property.  A free woman must be discrete in her use of her slave for those reasons.  In other words, you can’t make a public display of sexual congress in the commons area, the front gates, or the arena.  Heaven forbid that a free woman would lower herself to make use of a slave at the front gate.  Yes, it would be acceptable for a free woman to take her slave to the furs in her own domicile away from prying eyes.
 
Now, the Couching Laws state that a free woman may not take to her furs, the slave of another.  It would be an unwise choice and dangerous.
 
I have here, copied onto this scroll, a quote from the Couching Laws of Port Olni.
“Any free woman who couches with another’s slave, or readies herself to couch with another’s slave, becomes herself a slave, and the slave of the slave’s Master.”
 
I think the law speaks for itself.  It would be advantageous to curb your sexual appetites and save them for a free man.  Now, if that is not possible….well it just has to be possible or your friends will soon see you naked, whipped, and collared.

DEAR TEAL:
I am a free man. My companion and I have just moved to another city. This new city is much nearer the caravan trade routes and allows me to buy merchandise for my stall much more cheaply. My companion and I were both born in the city which we just left. We have a fondness for the city of our birth. When we left we packed our flag which has the city crest on it. In our new city we are fond of flying this insignia over the stall where we sell goods in the market place. I was asked by the landlord of the stall rentals, to take down the ensign of my old city.
He said we lived in the town of “Ramberry” and he felt it was disrespectful to display the ensign of another city in the market stalls of “Ramberry”.

I am really irked by this man. I told him, “Perhaps I will, Sir and perhaps my Mother will turn into an ost next waiting hand.” I know I have to give him an answer as he is harassing us. What should I do so as not to cause a war between the two cities over my need to fly this banner?

DEAR STARTER OF WORLD WAR 3:
Hmmmm…I think I have seen your stall in “Ramberry”, the last time I was there. You sell a lot of glittery things, right? You know, nothing says “love” like receiving a present that glitters. It seems the more “love” you want to express to the recipient the more glittery the gift has to be. I remember my Master stopping by that stall. He purchased a small perfume amphora. The glass was exquisite, delicate, glittery. I hoped he was buying it for me but alas he bought it for the Ubara. He said she deserved nice things more than me. He could be right.

But I digress. Yes…I saw that flag waving in the beautiful breezes of En’var. The flags colors were brilliant against the sky. You should be proud of your former ensign. Now about the Keeper of the Stall Rents, if he is not satisfied you will continue to be accosted by him.

To avoid these frequent confrontations…you could use this flag debacle as a “marketing moment”. I would be a liar, and woe betides the slave who lies, if I told you my Master and I were not attracted to the colorful flag flown from your stall. It is a fabulous way to generate interest in your stall and its contents. I noticed that not one of the other stalls flew a banner.

I am sure, that in the market, there are diverse populations of shopkeepers, not all of whom were born in “Ramberry”. You might suggest to the Keeper of Rents that he permit all stall owners to fly the flags of the cities they are now or formerly from. Have them place a professional and tasteful display of his or her flags on their stalls. It would be surprising to learn that maybe the stall owner next to you from your old city.

This would be a civil way of solving this predicament. The market could sport a more cosmopolitan look. Also the citizens of your old city would be more apt to shop at a stall that was flying the banner of their city.

Once again, a win win situation. By the way, do you have any more of those perfume amphora? I am pestering my Master to buy me one.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 164